In the Deep, Dark Forest Where Dwell the Pure
by The DG Forum
Summary: It's a reckless, dangerous choice. But she's too tired of hiding to care about the consequences.


This story was written for **Emma (occasionally-maybe-never)** in _**The DG Forum Fic Exchange - Winter 2015**_ by a member of the forum. For more details, please visit our page!

* * *

><p>She has ten fingers, ten toes. She can count to ten in three languages, though she's not confident in her pronunciation of the third.<p>

She dreams of the colour red, of blood on her fingertips and feathers in her hair, and wakes up with a scream on the tip of her tongue that never quite leaves.

The purple smudges under her eyes that she hides with makeup and carefully layered spells feel like a poison on her skin. Like _Tom_ had held her face in his hands and brushed away her tears with insidious fingers, permanently scarring her face with his evil.

She's okay, most of the time. She can hide behind a smile or a smirk and a laugh and pretend that she's all right until she feels all right. She gets overly invested in her schoolwork and Quidditch and boys until she forgets for the day that she's wearing a mask.

But at night, she cannot forget. She can never forget.

Some nights she lies on her bed with her face toward the ceiling; she just lays there. Sometimes she can feel the slow wet trickle of tears sliding across her face with no exact feeling to cause them-just a dread that she feels like a vise around her chest.

Sometimes when people touch her, it takes all that she is not to flinch away, to protect them from the filth on her skin.

She doesn't _want_ to feel this way. She doesn't want to have to count in three languages to calm herself from the panic that builds in her chest or the rage that threatens to explode from her mouth and fists like an eruption of ash and molten lava. She doesn't want to repeat the numbers in her head until everything gets less fuzzy, more her. _One two three four five six seven eight nine ten unus duo tres quattuor quinque sex septem octo novem decem un deux trois quatre cinq six sept huit neuf dix._

Sometimes it lasts for only minutes, usually it lasts for only minutes. Sometimes it's enough to get her headspace clear enough to think properly, to react like someone normal, someone good.

But sometimes? Sometimes she's on the edge of an explosion after her count too. Sometimes she just snaps and the panic and anger burst from her like a busted tap until she's too drained to move.

She doesn't like feeling like _Tom's _hands are still lingering on her skin, like he's still lurking inside her head like a ghost rattling around.

She feels tainted. Like his evil is painted underneath the surface of her skin, like she's impure now and always will be.

It's another sleepless night in a series of them over the past few years, another internal countdown that fails to keep her mind calm and quiet, another panicked crying fit alone in her bed with her heavy curtains drawn-it's another exhausted breakdown that brings her to a decision.

It's a reckless one, a dangerous one.

She has to do it.

It's the first night of break since the majority of her classmates boarded the train for home. It's late, and she just wants to be able to sleep without nightmares, without thinking.

She'd stayed behind instead of going home for Christmas, instead of going back to the strain of muffling her screams in her pillows and hiding her sleeplessness with cheerful smiles and mediocre pranks.

She doesn't meet anyone on her trek through the dark corridors of the castle and when she finally steps into the heavy snow and cold outside, she knows she can do this.

The forest ahead is dark and looming.

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten._

-x-

_Don't come home._

That's all the letter says. Well, his mother's name is written in her careful looping scrawl at the bottom, but that's all it says otherwise.

_Don't come home._

He hadn't wanted to anyway. He hadn't wanted to come home last summer even. Not that he'd ever admit that.

He's not the son his father wanted. He knows that. He can feel it in every word and look and admonishment and punishment.

He doesn't feel afraid of much. He's afraid of what his father might make him do, but that's a fear he feels makes sense. His father... his father has always been the way he is.

He has to be strong though. Unafraid.

_Don't come home._

He's not afraid of much. He grew up with the woods overlooking his family's property on the east, massive trees tangled around each other. Dark, imposing ones that let in little light. He was never afraid of the woods, never afraid of the creatures that may live within. And he was never afraid of the dark.

His mother used to take him on hikes sometimes, when his father was away. She loved being outside, the wind whipping her perfectly put-together hair into a tangle of snarls. She loved walking through the woods and hilly countryside in an old worn pair of dragonhide boots and thick grey trousers.

She used to bring him along, telling stories about hiking with her sisters during summers home from Hogwarts. About how it slowed as they grew older, until it was just her and Andy going.

And then Andy was gone.

He doesn't know much about how his mother was before she married his father. He knows she loved hiking and her sisters more than anything else, but beyond that he only knows her as she raised him.

And those things changed as he grew older too.

As the years passed, she started withdrawing from everything. Oh, he knew without a doubt that she loved him dearly and he knew she still loved his father. But her trips along the country dwindled. Her hair was always perfect, her dresses perfectly pressed.

Her old boots and grey trousers were hidden away.

It was like the happier his father became, the less of his mother he could see anymore. The better society wife she was, the less he knew her at all.

He'd stopped joining her on her hikes the summer after his first year at Hogwarts.

He was too afraid by then, of the forests. Of the dark shape of the trees and the creatures within them.

And now, he held a parchment in his hands from his mother, who was the only reason he hadn't tried to run and stay away from the stuffy dark manor the previous summer, and it told him not to come home.

He couldn't be afraid anymore, of the forest. Of dark things and his father.

His mother needed him, perhaps more than she ever had before.

He pulls on his favourite cloak-a deep blue chosen by his mother. And then he throws up his hood and heads out.

The snow outside is thick and heavy, the forest ahead is an imposing dark and foreboding evil.

He thinks about his mother, the smile on her face as she pulled on her worn dragonskin boots.

He thinks about his mother, and steps forward.

-x-

Gerasimos can feel the pull of his last days like a tightening of his skin. The star that foretold the length of his life is fading in the night sky.

It's been a long time, this life.

He remembers the old days fondly. When the magicians from the school would come to the forest to complete the trials of the forest and become adults.

When the forest was alive and thriving, instead of this. Insular and closed off and dark.

He misses the days of his young age. He is an old one now, far older than anything else the forest held. What change could his hands bring to remember the ways of the forest before? There were too many reasons that his family's descendants alone had begun to hide themselves away; too many reasons the forest faded from vibrancy to darkness.

Gerasimos bows to the herd before him, watches as their white pelts gleam under the moonlight that streams into the clearing.

The Sisters of Pegasus whinny at his respect and part way for him. In the center, there is an injured foal. A Brother of Pegasus somehow far from his family. He trots forward and examines him carefully.

But Gerasimos can do nothing for him. He knows by the time he rouses the kindheart in the hut on the edge of the forest, the foal will likely have already passed.

"I cannot help the little one," he tells the herd softly, laying a gentle hand on the foal's back.

Gerasimos slowly rises back up, whispering an old blessing.

And then he begins to walk away.

-x-

The forest is dark. The forest is dark and she is alone and she is lost.

And she is scared.

For all her years, she hasn't felt so much alone since she was eleven and dying in the Chamber. Not even the solitude of her anxiety and fear has let her feel quite this desperate for someone at her side in the years since then.

"Un deux trois quatre cinq-"

"Six?" A voice interrupts her count and she has turned with her wand at the ready and a spell on her lips before she can even think about what is happening.

"Whoa, calm down!" It comes out of her new companion's throat in a startled hiss, and she finally meets his eyes.

Grey eyes.

"Why are you following me, Malfoy?" she spits out, the spell still on the tip of her tongue.

But his hands are raised in defence. It's an odd look for him.

"I'm not. I didn't even know you were here until... the counting."

"Why are you here then?" she demands, her grip still tight on her wand.

"I... Why are _you_ here?" he retorts and then she gets it.

"You're lost too." Maybe it means more than the physical. Maybe it doesn't. She's not sure that it matters either way.

"Why are you even in the stupid forest, Weasley?" he snarls, defensive in his tone as well as his posture now.

"I... Well... Well, that's none of your business!"

They're both silent for a few minutes, neither looking at the other directly but neither looking away.

"Um... Maybe, maybe we should stay together until we find a way out," she finally manages to blurt out. She's sure she must be blushing as she looks down at her feet, but she's not sure if the light filtering through is enough to tell.

He is silent for what feels like ages.

-x-

He doesn't want to leave her side. She can do no more to protect him than he can do himself, and she's likely to spread the tale of scared little Malfoy alone in the woods when they're finally back within the safety of the stone walls of Hogwarts, but still.

He doesn't want to be alone.

"Okay," he manages to say after a long and uncomfortable silence. Their eyes finally meet again and there is surprise and _gratitude_ in her face.

Maybe she understands him more than anyone else could, right now.

He doesn't know. He isn't sure he wants to.

"I'm not sure where we are," she admits, though he'd gathered that from her earlier comment about being lost too. It doesn't matter, he supposes.

The forest doesn't seem quite as dark with her there.

Not that he will ever, under any circumstances ever, admit that to anyone.

"I thought you peasants were supposed to have a sense of adventure," he manages to say instead, his lips lifting in a smirk when she glares.

"I'm plenty adventurous, Malfoy. I think you're the one who's scared of the big bad woods." And then she's the one smirking.

And just like that, the tension of being alone in the woods with a girl from a family his family hates, just _dissipates_.

-x-

Gerasimos feels it in the air. It tastes like coins and lightning.

A challenger.

The forest has found a challenger, hundreds of years after the practice had fallen to rumour.

_A challenger_.

There is a magician in the forest searching to overcome something, and the forest has awakened to answer it.

The Sisters of Pegasus behind him let out excited whinnies, feeling the promise in the air as surely as he had.

He wonders if his own brethren can feel it, or if they'll dismiss it as they've dismissed many things over the years.

Gerasimos knows that he's the oldest guardian left outside the trees themselves. He knows that he's the last one who can lead the trials, which the forest remembers with resplendent glory if the song in the air is any indication.

"Brother of Pegasus, you may have a saviour yet. Can you feel it?"

-x-

She knows she can't trust him. He's a Malfoy and she's a Weasley and he could have been doing any number of nefarious things in the Forbidden Forest before they came across each other.

But she hasn't felt this excited about doing something in a long time, felt it all the way to her bones like she did the first time she waved her wand and _magic_ happened.

"I want to find a unicorn," she blurts out suddenly, nearly tripping over nothing when he stops suddenly.

"A _unicorn_? Why?" He asks it as if it's the most preposterous thing he's ever heard.

"Why not?" she replies, the teasing smile on her face very real.

But something about his face makes her stop.

"You're insane."

His words make something in the pit of her stomach sour. It's like all of her fears that she's not normal are coming true and she hates that _he's _the one making her feel this way. He shouldn't matter. She was _okay_, for the short time since they started walking together and now she feels like she will never be okay again.

"I'm... I'm not..." She tries but it won't come out. She doesn't really believe she's been truly okay in a long time, that's the point of all this, isn't it?

Find a unicorn and prove that she's not tainted... And if she is, then... then she'll know. Then she can run away and perhaps she can stay in the forest where no one can touch her, where she cannot hurt her family.

"Weasley!"

She jumps at the sound, suddenly pulled from her head.

"Let's go," she manages to say, and she does not look at him when she does it.

-x-

He doesn't understand her. He's never really understood girls in general but she's one of the oddest girls he's ever met.

She wears a mask. He's used to masks.

But for all the loneliness in his world, he never expected to see any in hers. She's got family, people who care about her as a person. She's got siblings and yet... he's seen the panic in her eyes before. In his own, in his mother's.

He's used to hiding things behind a façade. Used to throwing on an arrogant mask and saying insensitive things he'll rarely mean and oft regret.

He's used to faking it to be the son his father wants, the perfect mold of himself.

But it's not real.

He remembers his second year, of the rumours about her possession by the Dark Lord... And he wonders, how anyone can ever forget it.

He hates her family. He doesn't expect that will change regardless of them protecting each other in the forest. Some of it is on principle; his family and hers have hated each other for far longer than he knows. Did it start with their parents? Did it start long before?

He has no idea.

He's not sure why he's thinking about it now.

The forest is dark and cold and they are alone.

-x-

Gerasimos sees them in the stars. They shine like beacons. Two of them.

He wasn't expecting two. Two magicians to overcome the trials.

But he's glad for it. Maybe they'll come back when he's gone, lead the trials themselves.

He doesn't know.

The Brother of Pegasus stumbles towards him with the Sisters at his back, his shredded wing dragging behind him.

The brother cries, its mournful noise echoing through the trees and disrupting the gentle not-quite-silence of the night.

Gerasimos looks up.

Yes, the champions are coming.

-x-

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Unus, duo, tres, quattuor, quinque, sex, septem, octo, novem, decem. Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix. One, two, three..._

Her head is filled with red. Blood on her fingers, blood on her lips.

_Four._

She blinks, and the world is clear again.

Her hands are clean.

-x-

He watches her, for a minute. The way she stares down at her shaking hands, the way her mouth moves in a silent count.

And then she stops. Blinks.

She stares at her hands but it's different.

"We should move. It's too quiet here," he says, interrupting her. She blinks again, and nods.

They walk in silence, wands clutched in their hands but hanging at their sides. He wants to say something, but he doesn't know what and he doesn't know why.

A tree blocks their path. It's sudden and unexpected.

"What in Merlin's name..." Weasley mutters, looking on either side of it. It doesn't move.

"It's a tree, what does it look like?"

"I know that, you idiot. Why has it moved, though?" she asks, touching the tree lightly.

"To block the path, obviously. We should go that way," he tells her, pointing off to the side, where the tree had been.

She looks at him and nods.

-x-

He can see them now. The copse of dark and barren trees surrounding them bends to block out the moonlight from above.

A wolf howls, a long unbroken sound.

He steps forward.

"What if this is it?" the girl whispers to her companion. Gerasimos smiles to himself.

"Then we die. And your family blames mine and mine blames yours."

"That's morbid, Malfoy. Isn't there anything you would do if you knew this was your last moment?"

"Like what, Weasley? Telling my father I've no intention of joining him?"

"Like this, you idiot," she says, and she pulls him with a fist in his shirt and tie and kisses him hard on the mouth.

He kisses back and then they separate. He nods at her and then their backs are against each other, wands at the ready.

-x-

She's afraid. It feels like something out of her nightmares, except never in her nightmares was Draco Malfoy ever a part.

"Are you ready?" he asks her.

She nods before she remembers that he can't see her. "Let's do this."

Her Incendio hits on target, the tree before her bursting into flames. She continues to cast, and she can feel the burning heat of their combined spells on her face.

"Duck!" Malfoy yells, and there is suddenly a burst of water inches from her face. The flames calm and with it the trees _move_ back.

"Run!" she calls to him, jerking her head towards the break in the trees.

He grabs her hand in his and they run.

-x-

He doesn't know why he does it, why he grabs her hand.

But he doesn't care. They make it out of the trees and towards a cleaning, stumbling into each other and over roots.

And she stops, her hand pulling him to a stop too.

There are unicorns in front of them. He can see twelve of them, tall and proud and beautiful.

"You are brave," an unfamiliar voice interrupts them and he watches her stiffen in surprise before either of them turn.

There's a tall centaur standing behind them. His coat is gray and white, his mane a tangle of silver hair and crushed flowers. He is far older than any centaur he's ever seen before. He can see that in the centaur's eyes.

"Who are you?" Weasley asks suspiciously

"I am Gerasimos, the last guardian. You are the champions of the trials of the forest, and you have one last task ahead of you."

"Task? This is a game to you?" she yells in anger. The unicorns step backward at her pitch.

"No, young magician. You came seeking something, and the forest answers. You must win your prize."

"What do we have to do?" he asks, squeezing her hand reassuringly before letting it drop.

"Heal a Brother of Pegasus."

-x-

Gerasimos smiles as the two step cautiously towards the black-winged horse. He can tell that she sees him, but the boy cannot. He has not been cursed with the view of death and he feels glad of it.

"What's wrong with it, Weasley?"

"The wing... it's torn up. It's just a baby Thestral..."

"Do you know any healing spells that might work?"

"I'm not any good at them! Do you know...?"

"I can't see it, Weasley."

They share a look, and then she nods.

"If I tell you where to cast, can you do it?" she asks him.

"I can."

-x-

Malfoy's casting is good. His spells seem to be mending the wing enough to stave off the blood loss, and she's filled with an incomprehensible relief.

She's helped save a Thestral.

"You are fine champions, both of you." Gerasimos says quietly, bending his legs to lay beside the foal.

"Can you tell us the way out of here?" Malfoy asks him. She gently pets the Thestral's head as it nuzzles her fingers.

"Alas, I cannot. The unicorns will lead you out soon. I fear my time here is done."

Gerasimos closes his eyes slowly and she and Malfoy watch as the old centaur falls asleep and breathes no more.

-x-

The unicorns lead them to a hut on the edge of the forest. They take turns nuzzling their noses against Weasley's outstretched hand and then his own.

"I was afraid of the forest..." He admits to her as they begin the trek through the heavy snow back toward the castle.

"I was afraid I was tainted..." She admits in turn.

They won't speak of this conversation later, even if they stay together as he expects they will now. No one will ever know.

"Did you know that only the pure of heart can touch a Thestral?" he asks, remembering a vague passage from an old book.

She looks surprised.

He smiles.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Emma's Prompt (3)<strong>

**Basic Premise:** Hogwarts Era. Ginny just wants to meet a Unicorn, to be able to touch one; just to prove to herself that she's not tainted after all. Draco wants to conquer his fear of the Forbidden Forest.

**Must Haves: **Angst, dark themes, painful memories. The episode with Riddle and the Diary should be the cause for Ginny's fear of being tainted.

**No-No's: **Fluff, sweetness etc.

**Rating: **Any

**Bonus Points: **Use of the quote "Let me glimpse inside your velvet bones."


End file.
